


Memoirs of Moira O'deorain

by ConstipatedGenius



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Sci-Fi, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstipatedGenius/pseuds/ConstipatedGenius
Summary: Explore the mind of the great geneticist Moira O'deorain from her graduation from the National University of Ireland to the present point in Overwatch's history, and observe that despite the woman that she became, Moira never began her path with malicious intent. After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.





	1. Graduation & Early Successes

**Authors Note:**   **Seeing as I've made a solid 3 attempts to start up a fanfiction, I've concluded I should try something I can pick up and put down at will and not feel bad about it, nor need to make 10k word chapters to have an adequate story or purpose. With some time brainstorming I found that making a sort of journal for a hero would be my best chance - if I ever lost motivation or time to write, it wouldn't be the end of the world since we already have Moira's ending point in mind in terms of where she's at right now in the lore. Although I wouldn't expect anything profound from this fic, I feel like just exploring O'deorain's mind should be fun for however long my motivation lasts.**

**Oh! Also, be aware that my assumed timeline for these events may not be 100% accurate given that our current chain of events provided to us by Blizzard is very - shall we say - bare bones. DISCLAIMER: This is me copying from FF.net, my other account of the same name, so be aware of duplicated, sometimes odd, author's notes.**

* * *

Graduation;

I'm not one typically to adopt pen and paper to chronicle my own life or current events - I never found much amusement nor nostalgia in dwelling in the past unless it possessed information I may need to fall back on later - but at the continued behest of my mother, I can't help but oblige her wishes. Even if I presently have some disdain for my time being whittled away by simply scrawling away into a book I anticipate I shall rarely go back and read for posterity's sake, at least mother will finally have one less reason to persist in her haranguing me to "start writing down your life's journey" as she put it. She makes this whole idea out to be far more profound and important than it has any right to be, but perhaps given time I'll come to appreciate her coaxing me in this direction. It wouldn't be the first time mother's persistence ended up guiding my path towards a more content future.

I can only wonder what possessed her to put so much more force into getting me to begin writing today than any other time, though. Not during my years of ahead-of-schedule college courses and awards, not during the buildup to my first science fair promoting the importance of genetic studies, not even my early graduation from high school some 2 years ago were met with such a push from her. If I had to have a gander I'd likely say it has something to do with her fearing the news of the many deactivated Omnium reawakening and mass producing some form of siege unit variants of Omnics - I say that while this cause for concern, I doubt that a few hundred or even thousand rogue Omnics will prove too difficult to put down by the world's governments. Humanity has come across such issues of arms races and international crises before and emerged uninhibited by any lasting damage in these past few decades, and I doubt a hulking mass of slowly striding steel will be enough to topple such established nations of the modern era.

As for the details of the graduation itself? It was a rather splendid affair if I do say so myself. It certainly far exceeded my expectations when they simply told us to show up in our cap-and-gowns on time and leave everything else to rehearsal. What they didn't tell us was that there would be a buffet (replete with copious amounts of beer cheese dip, to my joy), proper classical music – unlike the technological garble that appears to be growing in popularity worldwide – and accolades for our achievements in the form of job opportunities given to the highest achieving of us by the dozen. At least the lattermost of those surprises quelled the uneasiness I'd felt concerning finding an office or funding that would suffice for what hypothesis I need to test here on out.

I do wonder though where dear Kali Jelani will go from here on out though. She always was quite the outstanding mind here concerning military studies and development of better armor for use in hotter climates – such as her home in Iraq – but now? With so many opportunities presented to her across the world, I only hope she lands a job there; after all, it was the entire reason she came to Ireland for professional training in military science and technology in the first place. No matter what becomes of her though, I do plan on keeping contact. I owe her at least my continued companionship for all the restless nights she spent assisting me in my mandatory historical studies. How the National University of Ireland ever concluded the necessity of war-focused historical courses to a geneticist I will never know, but nonetheless fate seems to have allowed me to take some positive result out of it with Kali at the very least.

Most of the event after rehearsal was rather sociable – established professors and new prospects for my future employment alike all mingling in with one another, but something stuck with me concerning the short speeches accrediting each student for their arduous work and contributions at the University. Upon my being called from the graduating class I was curiously proclaimed a 'prodigy' - where I'd rather simply be called simply sufficiently talented. Being called a prodigy implies the likes of a child conducting Beethoven's 5th Symphony at the age of 8 and creating a timeless masterpiece of their own by the time they've reached maturity. Though I feel as though I'm not far off from that level of skill in the field of genetics and I appreciate the somewhat inflated perception of my present talents among my colleagues, I'd rather simply attain a proper foothold in my profession before the world expects revolution from me. One can only have so much of a grasp on what you'll end up doing at the tender age of 18 after all.

That having been put to paper though, it occurs to me perhaps my outstanding performance and distinction during my time here is exactly why Futura Genetics approached me – so abnormally eager to fund a new geneticist (and allowing me considerable autonomy I may add) whereas I've heard horror stories of some graduates waiting years to simply be refused the job. I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth however, and whatever resources Futura Genetics provides I will readily make use of.

* * *

Early Successes;

The more I surge forward in the world of genetics, the more I come to discover my appreciation for mother pushing me to put my thoughts to paper. If she'd simply told me that it'd help me put some keen analysis on my days and discoveries then I'd have been all the more happy to oblige, but her attempts to utilize emotional reasons to convince me of the importance of a journal fell short – though I feel as though that's more an error of my own than hers.

Speaking of discoveries, thanks to Futura Genetics' rather convenient transparency to those who manage to get themselves hired into the organization, I've concluded that their nanotechnology branch far exceeds the capabilities of the National University's. Whereas the University's comparatively archaic nanobots struggled to do more than achieve close-up imaging of genes and DNA within, Futura Genetics' nanobots can reconstitute a cells' makeup. Granted it's a very minute degree of reconstituting – limited to only a single molecule of a single gene – but it's a start! The applications if I were to hone this technology could be limitless! The cure-all for disease, the extraction of damaged or cancer-causing tissues or clotting of the blood vessels, the list goes on.

From what I've gathered thus far regarding the exact mechanisms and limitations of these nanobots, they appear to use an ingenious method of utilizing the atoms of molecules around them as resources for repair, effectively harvesting nearby healthy tissues or other such material for use in their primary objective. At present the greatest limiting factor is that they run out of charge abominably quickly, and that there's not too many of them in production. Why ever Futura Genetics would be stifling the pace of their own research via such a drastic oversight is beyond me, but I for one will be requesting mass production of these soon. Even now, as I pen these words down I gain more insight into the possible applications these nanobots display beyond the realm of biotics.

Where they currently are programmed for utilizing organic tissue around them, it would be an extraordinarily simple affair to alter their code to include ALL matter around them. This would allow the 'Biotic Reconstitution Nanobots' as they're called to self-replace and repair even inorganic targets such as Omnics around them via reconstituting the protons, neutrons, and electrons around them into a metallic or other such alloy form. As fate would have it, I've seen quite some number of poor Omnics nearby our offices that this hypothesis would be perfect for testing with. They stand or sit begging for what little charity they can attain in these anti-Omnic times, most experiencing decay over time due to need of repair but no soul being willing to assist them. I understand that due to the Crisis raging on that Omnics are suspect, but I hardly qualify civilian-grade Omnics to be all that dangerously worthy of contempt, and as such it's my duty to at least attempt to alleviate their suffering – if not simply test my theory on the nanobots.

Kali saw fit to once again warn me of the threat of associating with Omnics after I informed her of my decision to test that hypothesis. I know she means it more out of a place of care for my well-being than anything, but sometimes I wonder if she thinks me a fool regarding the Crisis. Granted, it's not too farfetched a conclusion to have come to given my earlier underestimation of the war-ready Omnics' capabilities, but I stand by my original claim. Although the Omnics continue to make advances and some towns and city blocks have required evacuation as a precautionary measure, I hold out hope the established military forces of the world will put an end to their threat sooner rather than later. How comparatively simple swarms of metal and bullets could overcome the myriad of resources and offensive tools modern nations possess I will never know. A part of me thinks that I should have taken Kali's suggestions of me paying further heed towards that history course to heart. At least then I'd be able to piece together more about how exactly this is all unfurling beyond Kali's oversimplifications to me during our conversations.

I sincerely do hope that Kali's predictions on how an Omnium could spit out dozens of air-ready fighters in a matter of weeks proves to be wrong though. Poor mother and father refuse to take stock in her or my warnings – Galway is hardly a fortified enough position to defend them from an air raid if launched from a European Omnium, and I don't know what I'd do if harm were to befall them.

The night grows late once more, and I must rest. My fears may haunt my dreams some nights but the only way we shall ever discover what tomorrow holds is by venturing forth. The unstoppable flow of time won't stop me from attempting to knock some sense into my parents again tomorrow however. If mother can spend years pestering me about a collection of pages in some dusty journal she found laying around, then she can deal with me trying to maintain a peace of mind in these uncertain times.


	2. The Way Becomes Clear & Grief

The Way Becomes Clear;

Fate is some twisted reprobate of an entity if it truly does exist. The idea of such a thing existing – dictating the birth, life, and death of an individual long before they can even scrawl their own name on paper cannot be reconciled with any form of reason, and yet here I am under its influence. Even under circumstances by which you and others may have seen it coming with all the evidence and sound reasoning in the world, it still feels surreal to register you've predicted it successfully – especially when it strikes those closest to you. Under any other circumstance, with any other set of people? I'd solemnly acknowledge my prediction of whatever fate befell whatever person as being correct, but not when it falls unto those closest to me.

As both Kali and myself had warned when we were talking to my parents those short few weeks ago, the Omnic assault branched from the Omnium in Madrid northwards in a doom-driven strike at the U.K meant to topple any illusions of safety that anyone there had held thus far. What we didn't anticipate was that England's air force wouldn't be capable of destroying the Omnics' air fleet in short enough order to stem the damages, and by the time their craft needed to retreat for refueling and repair there was still sufficient forces in the Omnics' ranks that they could strike at Ireland – which up until that point was left out of the chaos. Without warning, as Europe's great 'protectors' scrambled to try and muster their remaining operational forces needed to stop the complete annihilation of Ireland, the Omnics bombarded whatever civilian centers they could with impunity. Even the fighters that were struck down in the end managed to kamikaze themselves into whatever helpless civilians that were scurrying madly to escape the blitzkrieg.

Their only goal? Unfathomably barbaric, cruel, wretched, iniquitous destruction.

Galway now stands as a husk of a city, with the news reports I've kept in touch with reporting the disaster zone with all the atmosphere and mood of a Holocaust survivor being interviewed – ash choking the sky and fires blazing in the streets that I once frequented and called home. The only major center of Ireland that was spared the worst of it was Dublin – for whatever good that does the government now that it's in crisis, and my life lay shattered at the foot of chance and circumstance. I was informed a few short hours ago that my parents perished in the chaos, and that there won't be any chance for anything besides a closed-casket funeral for them. What was left of them could hardly be called human remains, and they were only identified when a surviving neighbor told officials the names of the residents of the houses near them that had been decimated. Perhaps if Kali was a woman of spite, she'd take this moment to remind me how foolish my optimism concerning the Omnic Crisis was, but instead she's informed me she will be coming to help me grieve as soon as she can slate herself a flight to Scotland. I know not what I did to deserve such a companion who's willing to drop their duties in the blossoming city of Oasis to help me cope and plan the specifics of my parents' funeral; but I am thankful that she'll be by my side.

The more time that passes by now that I ponder my own life choices, I wonder if I should – or even could – have pushed harder to get my parents over to the comparative safety of Scotland? Father would have flown over at the first signs of danger on the horizon if I was in harm's way, and he'd have stopped at nothing to drag me to wherever he deemed was safe for me to stay. Should I have done the same to them? Or was I too passive, too willing to leave things to chance that I was the one who doomed them through my inaction?

Though I cannot change the past, and I can never truly forgive myself for not trying harder to save them, to drag them to the safety of the mainland myself, I can at least try and prevent such damnable circumstances from arising ever again to anyone else.

And I know just the means to this end.

The Biotic Reconstitution Nanobots I'd ordered arrived a few days ago at my office, enough to last me months – or even years of experimentation. Even as I performed standard diagnostics to see if they'd arrived intact and unimpaired by their journey, I could tell just how instrumental they would be in my studies. Within the first day of their arrival I'd grown acquainted enough with the programming to begin rewriting the code; allowing the bots to work efficiently with both organic beings and Omnics – and I can only assume my prowess with coding more intricate functions will grow as time goes on, accelerating the process. After what I assume will be several months of Omnic trials to test their molecular reconstitution capabilities, I guarantee I will swiftly move on to studying the human genome to such a degree that I'll be able to remove all detriments and inefficiencies from the human experience – and in the process, I  _will_ maximize human potential. No godless circumstances and disaster ordained by chance will ever stand in the way of humanity's growth, in the way of the individual right to life all of us hold dear. And if it does? I'm sure my research will make even the feeblest man alive capable of enduring the worst droughts and famines the world has yet to see and emerge none the worse for wear.

The road will ahead be long and difficult, and I'm sure that not all of my colleagues will agree with my methods, but when humanity stands as arbiter of its own fate? When every man, woman and child need no longer fear happenstance and instead can live a fulfilling life knowing they can weather whatever happens to them along the way? Then the world will be cheering my praises. Not that I need them. My foolishness concerning my parents is all the motivation I needed to spur my actions – all manner of accolades and praises that come after are secondary. Though I will warmly embrace them all the same. I'm surer of my path now than ever before yes, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the probability of praise befalling me.

* * *

Grief;

Nightmares have been hounding me incessantly these past few days, and sleep has become a precious commodity that eludes me, despite however much coaxing Kali may provide to try and help me to procure some rest. I can't help but feel this is some twisted form of punishment for my failures regarding my parents, no matter how much Kali assures me there's nothing more I could have done. As if my parents' spirits haunt me even now, the unspoken question of why I had failed to save them on their cold, dead lips.

At least when I gather enough strength to pry myself out of bed – with some help from Kọfị Aromo - Kali is a sparkling conversationalist, and blessedly patient with me. I always knew she was empathetic to those who'd suffered hardship, but the degree by which she's more than willing to stand by me even when I wish nothing more than to disappear entirely from this life shocks me. Then again, I acted no differently towards her when she told me that her home had long since been destroyed terrorists back in Iraq prior to her moving to Ireland. She'd already grieved alone in her own time, but I managed to help truly close the wounds of that grief with her after I saw the bitter emotional scars that remained. In some way I suppose she's simply returning the favor, but the sincerity she exudes tells me that even if my family has departed, I'll always have someone Kali in this world for me.

That sentiment helps to take my mind off the funeral if nothing else. As painful as it was to have to arrange everything ranging from coffins to burial site for those that were so full of life such a brief time ago, we managed to arrange the event without me breaking down – which I consider a victory given how my grief has struck me senseless. The funeral is planned to take place tomorrow on the outskirts of father's hometown of Dublin, in the very same cemetery his parents before him were buried in, and their parents before them, and so on. The arrangement would almost be poetic if not for the fact that thousands upon thousands of other grieving families will be doing the same, burying their loved ones that were taken from them all too soon. Even the rolling green hills I recall being there lay in ruin with a backdrop of shattered buildings framing them, as if nature itself laughs at our torment and wishes to add to the scene like some wretched playwright of our lives.

Perhaps now that my parents' bodies are going to be put to rest, their faces will stop haunting my dreams and I'll be allowed some sleep – at least enough to give me the strength to continue repenting for my failures, and right my wrongs. Even if it takes me to oblivion and back, I will not cease until my mission is complete. My parents deserve as much from me, after all. They brought me into this world and raised me into the rising star of genetics, and how did I repay them? By failing to save them. Never again.

* * *

Hope;

It's been some time since my parents' funeral, and as the final mounds of soil were thrust unto their coffins, I could almost feel a weight lifted off my shoulders despite the ungodly amount of rain that had presided over the arrangement. Whether that had been the spirits of my parents finally letting me know they had been put at peace, the atmosphere finally clearing up overhead, or an omen of the news that would reach me upon returning home I do not know, but what came next only reignited my drive to continue forward with more gusto than I'd felt since graduation.

Kali had to leave the funeral early due to a call from Oasis' current Minister of Defense, but thankfully she waited at my home for my return before having to up and leave. She didn't depart though without giving me some hopeful news, though. Thanks to her close association with the Minister of Defense, and his connections therefore to the U.N, Kali was privy to the rumor of an elite strike team being formed under the name Overwatch. The small group would be given jurisdiction capable of striking worldwide with surgical precision, utilizing only the greatest minds and technology from around the world to dismantle the Omnic war machine wholesale.

And the best part? Kali Jelani – master realist in tactics and pessimist regarding the crisis thus far – told me that she had  _hope_ that this worldwide allocation of resources would pay off. She went so far as to say that the entire reason any one nation had been failing was because so far, they'd refused to collaborate, and now that they are going to? Now that they've finally exhausted all other options and now wish to share their methods with one another? Now they'll be more flexible than the Omnics' capabilities to respond will allow. Although Kali's commitment to realism rubbed off on me somewhat in response to my parents' deaths, I couldn't help but smile at how wonderfully expressive and hopeful Kali looked in that moment. If she genuinely believes in this Overwatch task force, I'll do my best to share in her enthusiasm.

Now more than ever I know my path to be true. Not only have the nightmares that have plagued me finally passed on, not only do I see that my goals regarding the Biological Reconstitution Nanobots are very possible, but I see that my mission has so much more purpose than general altruism towards the human experience. My research into the details of decay and repair, of man and machine, not only serve the general populace to help them endure any event outside of reasonable control, but also help the first responders that delve headfirst into warzones endure those same disasters.

Perhaps the most imminent case my research would apply to is this rapidly assembling Overwatch group? After all, they'll be risking their lives on the battlefield to end a worldwide conflict no one has had an answer to, and whatever injuries befall them will take considerable time to heal – thus costing time and lives as a result. Though the field of nanobiology shows promise to accelerate healing processes, I feel that my research into biotics will soon outpace any advances nanobiology has yet to make. And then? Then the brave souls in Overwatch that march into combat will need no longer fear the confines of their weak bodies, nor fear the need to inject themselves with who knows what in the Americans' case. If there's one thing Futura Genetics is good for, it's allowing me the resources and confidential information I need to compare my work to the projects other nations hide in shadow.

For now though, the night grows late once again, and the allure of tomorrow sings its siren song of possibilities. Until next my pen meets these familiar pages, then.

* * *

**Notes** to Self:  
-Abbreviate Biotic Reconstitution Nanobots and the accompanying charging and transport unit to BRN and BRN Unit respectively, or some other shortened variant. It will save far more time when putting my thoughts to paper.  
-Find a way to more effectively move the BRN Unit around. After all, what good will it do soldiers on the battlefield if they need to lug around a cylinder of the BRN in their arms to treat their wounded? An idea; compact the BRN unit into a back-mounted device and accompanying interface for fast application of the bots themselves in a combat scenario. Granted, this will take considerable time to even begin testing, but all in due time.


	3. Progress & Fools

Progress;

Part of me regrets my inability to allow time for myself to commit my discoveries day-by-day into my journal these past few years, but the simple fact is that sometimes fulfilling one's true purpose overshadows any scant amount of time that remains in the day to decompress or delve into a desired hobby. In my case said hobby is archiving my thoughts for posterity, as my late mother wanted and now I've ended up warming up to – what with it assisting me in a retrospective analysis of my previous discoveries and perspectives concerning the world. That having been stated though, my workload has been so tremendously overbearing on my time for all the right reasons, the most important of which being the wonderous amount of progress I've been making with the BRN.

As I anticipated with my initial journey into the intricacies of the BRN's coding, the act of making them effectively cannibalize nearby molecules and atoms to transform into more relevant forms to heal injuries took time. It was simply a matter of maximizing efficiency however – not complexity – that forced me to take so long in beginning testing on Omnics. Speaking of Omnics, there's been no shortage of eager test subjects displaced by anti-Omnic sentiment in Europe post-crisis. This massive influx of injured or otherwise hindered Omnics has been a perfect testing ground for the BRN, and each test has gone swimmingly. Fractures and even major damages in inorganic limbs and circuits have been able to be completely repaired with absolutely no ill effects on the machines' functional capabilities. Even better, I've had free reign to conduct these experiments - whatever questions of morality on experimenting with sentient beings have been blessedly brushed aside with the general populace's disdain towards Omnics.

I don't imagine this disdain will last forever though. While it suits my purposes for testing now, the entire reason for the world's hate of Omnics – the aptly named Omnic Crisis – is a thing of the past, and such future crises will be avoided when my research reaches its pinnacle. Thus, fear of another Omnic uprising in the wake of humanity's potential being unleashed will fade, and humanity may resume whatever more productive functions it wishes to pursue.

Not only has testing on Omnics at large proceeded well in proving the BRN's capability of repairing complex  _mechanical_ structures with no remaining detriments, but my tests with mammals have met with even greater success. Mammalian limbs and organs removed and replicated wholesale in a matter of moments only further proves how much humanity's future lays in the arms of biotics, even if the world may proclaim nanobiology the future as of late. Where as nanobiology may stop the flow of severed arteries and repair surface-level damages to both bone and tissue alike, biotics has not only the very same capability, but has also realized the potential to rewrite genes of living creatures into a more effective form. Just in these last few months I was able to procure a pregnant mountain hare for testing, and not only entirely change the sex of the hare's offspring – but also enhance their genes related to leg strength. The resulting leverets were capable of leaping over 3 times the distance of their mother upon maturation, and I plan on publishing the accompanying paper on the matter shortly.

If it's possible to do such a thing to mammals such as the mountain hare, then it most assuredly follows that the same could be done to any one – or several - of the numerous genes that carry the greatest impact on a human's quality of life. Imagine it! Where once a child may have been born crippled and blind, that same child in the future could be capable of outrunning the Summer Games' best athletes in their youth and be blessed with such keen sight that even the most attentive eagles would struggle to match them.

I will not overstep the bounds of properly pacing my research though, however eager I am to skip right to the possible endpoint of my research. No, I must begin in the same place I did with previous mammalian test subjects – removing organs or limbs and subsequently replacing them. Once the process has been perfected to the point of lost human limbs being replicated in sufficient time to resume fighting in a combat scenario though, then I will know that it's time to move on to genetic testing like the mountain hare's. I'm under no delusion of my research being close to done, and however long it takes me to do so, it's to be expected. Luckily for me I've been able to convince an ex-convict to undergo the process of removing one of his arms with the help of some 'incentive' from my own personal account. No matter how shady Futura Genetics' distribution of people's private genetic information may be, they seem to have drawn the line at outright human experimentation. Nonetheless, the experiment will be conducted in a month's time, and I eagerly await the beginning of a whole new chapter of my research.

Not only have I been successful in becoming more adept with the BRN themselves, but I have also been able to create the beginnings of a prototype BRN Unit for use in combat. One of the two fundamental devices I've developed thus far is capable of reconstituting material of both the organic and inorganic varieties so long as they utilize energy of their own – so inanimate objects such as a stone are not applicable for targeting. This allows for both accelerated recharge of the BRN themselves as well as the weaponization the process, which will obviously be fundamental if another Omnic uprising were to befall the world. The other then sends out the charged and stocked-up BRN to registered allies and mends whatever wounds they might have procured on the battlefield – though replacement of organs and limbs are features that need to be added in the future. Despite how effective the two devices are on their own, my prototype for transporting the entire thing is still entirely too cumbersome and will take a considerable amount of my personal time and funds to perfect. Progress all the same, though.

In less self-centered news though, I've been delighted to hear from Kali that she's ascended the ranks of Oasis and landed herself the position of Minister of Defense considering both her accurate predictions regarding the Omnic Crisis, and her many inventions and improvements upon Iraqi body armor. She most assuredly deserves it, and it warms my heart to know that Kali's contributions to the safety and well-being of her people is being recognized at long last. With Kali at the helm, I imagine Iraq will have very little to fear of Omnic uprisings or foreign invasion in the future. Why the rest of the world doesn't follow Oasis' precedent of accelerated progress I will never know, but at least there's one city in the world that will light the way to the future.

Unfortunately, not all my correspondents are so very in tune with the spirit of progress, though. The great pioneer of nanobiology Angela Ziegler has been in contact with me, bearing stern warnings regarding my methods of discovery. I simply told her that progress came at a cost, and that my research could only benefit her comrades in Overwatch in the future – helping preserve their lives. She was having none of it, calling me a "war-monger, only inventing weapons for weapons' sake," and "playing a borderline unethical game" concerning genetics and animal test trials. As such I've written off her perspectives on the world as overwhelmingly rose-tinted. I know from  _experience_  that some scenarios in this world cannot be reconciled through reason and negotiation - as she would so willingly believe could be done to even the most unforeseen of events. As such, my research and inventing are of a necessity to the prosperity of humanity. I do plan on keeping correspondence with her, though, simply to ward off investigation of my future endeavors – especially with my first round of human testing so close on the horizon. Who knows? Perhaps Overwatch will eventually come to see the value of my research and decide  _against_  jeopardizing the lives of their recruits in the name of "the right way of doing things."

The most absurd part is that even Kali has come to agree with me upon hearing the news of Angela warning me. We both know firsthand how important it is that humanity is never left at the mercy of chance again, and as such we've taken measures to make sure the future is less susceptible to it. Meanwhile, the very same "heroes" of Overwatch who were on the frontline of the crisis that changed myself forever decide to willingly ignore the objective truths of probability in favor of pretending they can play the part of defenders of the world indefinitely.

* * *

Fools;

These past few days have certainly been… eventful. Yes, eventful. That's one way of putting it. Though perhaps maddeningly infuriating may be a more apt description when I think about how things have turned out.

To start, my tests concerning the restoration of lost limbs went without a hitch. The patient came in right on schedule and appeared only mildly nervous at the idea that he was about to have one of his arms surgically removed and subsequently reconstituted, though he was determined to fulfill his end of the agreement. He was then promptly escorted into my work area and put under anesthesia - as we'd discussed previously - but was kept conscious as to not further complicate the BRN's task by needing to account for other foreign chemicals coursing through the patient's body. Although the patient expressed mild discomfort at being able to hear and faintly feel the removal of his arm, he stuck it through to the end and experienced next to no bleeding as the BRN began their work. For the next 8 hours (a remarkable time for a first human trial if I do say so myself) he laid still, going so far as to fall asleep of his own accord as his arm reconstituted, and upon testing his new arm for dexterity and strength he appeared none the worse for wear. By and far for a first trial the tests went above and beyond any reasonable expectation of success for a venture so complex as this. That very same day I wrote my report on the matter – eager to share my successes regarding the operation's success with the world – and submitted it to be published.

It would appear that science revealing the truth behind the potential of the human experience is not what Overwatch envisions for a brighter tomorrow, though.

It couldn't have been more than 3 days after my paper was published that my reputation was publicly set ablaze by the both the press and Overwatch's resident moral busybody Angela Ziegler. The paper that should have revealed the destiny of humanity to be clearly in the arms of myself and biotics instead catapulted me back years in terms of my available resources.  _Despite_  the fact the patient was on anesthetic,  _despite_  the fact he willingly agreed,  _despite_  the fact that everything went perfectly, and  _despite_  the potential revolution this could create for humanity, the world instead sees fit to parrot Angela's opinions and de-platform me entirely. Though her and the public's combined opinions under any under circumstance would not have been sufficient to de-platform me, it seems that Overwatch's darling little angel isn't opposed to playing dirty to make sure of my loss of funding. Futura Genetics has informed me that in the wake of Overwatch threatening to oust them on their distribution of private genetic information belonging to their customers, they needed simply to be rid of me to save their reputation. Whatever good that does humanity in the long run I will never know. It baffles me to know that the very same company that was so eager to fund me thus far is willing to throw humanity's transcendence beyond the limits of nature simply to avoid a public fiasco.

Before I started packing up my office for my permanent departure though, I had one final test that was slated to be done that I  _refused_ to see stopped by the idiocy of my supposed colleagues. Where I would have had another human patient to test out my latest iteration of the BRN – now with improved degenerative combat capabilities for the combat BRN Unit – on a live subject in a quantity too small to produce any lasting harm, now I had no volunteer willing to work with me. As is the case with many of the obstacles I have faced though, I didn't let it stop me. On the altar of discovery, I laid my own arm on the line to test the newest iteration of the nanobots, and despite whatever agony befell me during testing I can say with certainty that this new iteration is the most successful one yet. Their efficiency was beyond my imagining, and although the regenerative solution I'd prepared prior to testing didn't suffice to prevent permanent damaging of my arm, I'm more than willing to live with the scars. If anything, it'll simply be an eternal reminder to me of the cost of progress, and a mark of dedication to my research. One may call me a fool for using myself as a guinea pig, but when I'm so close to mastering the BRN Unit's potential to assist in both combat and my research? It's more than worth it.

Despite my loss of funding though, I'm not going to let that stop me from continuing my research. Even if no company would dare hire me anymore, there's always Kali and her links in Oasis to fall back on. She's already eagerly offered me an office there under a reasonable enough price that wouldn't strain my finite personal funding, and I'm going to inform her on my final day here of my decision to take her up on the offer. Oasis is a city that's committed to discovery by venturing beyond the boundaries of the ethics that rest of the world clings so foolishly to, and as such it will be the perfect environment for me to try and find new patronage in.


	4. A Flimsy Alliance & New Patrons

A Flimsy Alliance:

Out of all the possibilities running through my head upon leaving Futura Genetics those few months ago as to what would happen next in my journey, I did  _not_ anticipate a dropship landing outside of my office. The dropship belonged to a secretive subsection of Overwatch known as Blackwatch – and it would appear that not all those heroes in the organization are as blind as I was led to believe. The once-strike-commander Gabriel Reyes, ex-convict Jesse McCree, and now cyborg Genji Shimada were there to greet me, offering me a choice. Either stand to risk everything wherever I intended to go next and possibly be at the end of their rifles one day or join them and receive all the resources and funding I could have only ever dreamed of while part of Futura Genetics.

Needless to say, my decision came quickly, and in a matter of only a few days I was brought into the fold and given my very own state-of-the-art facilities beyond those of my previous employers. Blackwatch – or at least Reyes – is willing to embrace the moral gray area Overwatch so vehemently opposes, all to help make the world a safer place. The similarities in both my own and Blackwatch's goals does not pass over me, and although our methodologies may differ drastically, I'm glad to know that there are some who have come to the same conclusions I have. Upon Gabriel hearing news of the BRN and accompanying combat unit I'd been developing, he was all too eager to make that the focus of my research. In the following weeks I added the finishing touches to my already comprehensive prototype and produced a BRN Unit that would more than suffice for use in a combat setting. I then used the remaining days up until Reyes' scheduled update window to ponder quite the interesting question: what if both degenerative and regenerative cells coexisted in an individual? The idea of a soldier being capable of simply weaving around the battlefield in an only semi-permeable form proved attractive enough to warrant Reyes' attention in my report, and my next venture was set – with both of us signing up to test whatever fruits were born from that study.

Sadly though, despite my improvements upon combat applications of the BRN, Blackwatch has been unable thus far to provide me any human subjects for testing of organic replacement or genetic manipulation like the mountain hare so long ago. Not that I don't understand why. Following some butchered job in Cairo and Blackwatch's subsequent reveal to the world, I can't blame them for wanting not to abduct people simply for my research's sake. This lack of subjects though won't stop me from at least gathering samples of human DNA to study, however. I've offered both myself and my BRN Unit to Reyes for whatever clandestine missions he needs to see done, and thus both of us stand something to gain. He gains an effective combat medic and competent ally, and I gain the opportunity to watch the fruits of my labors – and newfound study of degenerative and regenerative cells – in action as well as gather DNA from a myriad of sources for study.

I don't expect this to last forever though. Oasis proves to be set upon far more solid foundations than the joint forces of Blackwatch and Overwatch at present, and I imagine that this house of cards will come tumbling down eventually. When that time comes I'll be more than wiling to accept Kali's offer – seeing as it's still on the table – and I'll have only emerged from this venture with the positive of having gained valuable insight into my research's combat applications. It's not like the public will hate me any more than they already do, in any case.

* * *

New Patrons:

As predicted, Blackwatch and Overwatch have begun their death spiral. The now-called Venice Incident started out perfectly according to plan, even if Reyes was positively ionic with barely subdued rage as we left on the mission. The criminal and businessman Antonio had been responsible for an attack on a Blackwatch facility – and more importantly to the Commander, for the hospitalization of Gérard Lacroix – and as such I was called in to assist in extracting him from his mansion to face trial. What came next seemed to have surprised McCree, but anyone with even half a brain could have seen coming considering the clandestine operations we'd been executing thus far. Reyes killed Antonio, thus leaving no chance of future problems arising from his organization as we knew it then – a sound reason for doing so instead of simply causing the man a mild inconvenience in his schedule, considering his many government puppets.

The rest of the world – as if often does – didn't decide to agree with the sound reasoning, though. Instead, in a matter of days after the incident was said and done, as the squad was debriefed on the matter, the Italian government cast all its cards on the table in an indignant attempt to bring down Blackwatch. To their credit, they succeeded. They ratted out my involvement with the organization, proclaimed our activities illegal and an act of terrorism on their government, and persuaded the U.N to investigate the joint organizations for a myriad of crimes – some true, some fabricated, all investigated with equal prejudice. With this cacophony of problems adding to the already palpable tension in the Overwatch chain of command, I was therefore left thoroughly unsurprised upon hearing that the Swiss HQ had gone up in flames a few days ago.

The individuals who investigated the scene claim that in addition to the dozens of bodies that were uncovered and identified, that Reyes and Morrison also perished in the firestorm – their corpses reduced to cinders or otherwise unable to be recovered or identified. The public bought the story as it often does, though I know differently. If Reyes can go toe-to-toe with a horde of Talon's cronies in Venice without so much as a single lasting wound, he'll most assuredly have been able to escape a simple explosion – no mater how grand a fireball it produced. Where he's going to turn up next, I do not know, nor entirely care. All that matters to me is that this public drama has bought me ample time to move my facilities to Oasis, and firmly establish my title as the distinguished Minister of Genetics there.

If I seem detached from all the crises facing Overwatch and my old comrades, it's because none of this truly impacts me – not when my alliance with them was more one of convenience than them truly wishing for my loyalty. Aside from being robbed of time for research and being inconvenienced by the need to relocate once again, I've emerged none the worse for wear in these past few months. Sure, the majority of the world still distrusts me, but the citizens of Oasis welcome me with open arms, and until the day comes that I've completed my research and helped humanity ascend beyond nature's bonds, I don't believe that they ever truly get over that feeling. Not that it matters. I have my facilities, I have Kali, I have an honored position that offers me all the funding I could ever dream of. Perhaps the most important of these rapid changes to my life is me being contacted by Talon, though.

It would appear that my involvement with the demise of Antonio put me on their radar, and my correspondence with the Omnic known as Maximilian has revealed that they too are subject to rivalry within their organization. Differing worldviews of where Talon should go next ideologically run rampant, and amid all the chaos I was able to discern that their strongest leader – Akande Ogundimu – has something of a vision for humanity that I could most certainly take to my advantage. He desires humanity to grow stronger, and I assured him through Maximilian that assisting me in finding subjects for my studies could only help him in the long run achieve his goals. Whatever he plans to do in the meantime with the rest of his rabble in their grand plan I should be able to stay out of, all the while reaping the benefits of their troops' "volunteering" for participation in my research.

It took years of incompetence and meddling from Overwatch and Blackwatch, but I'm getting the feeling that I've been able to finally root myself down in one spot to resume my research in earnest. Whatever comes next in the world, it matters not. Oasis is secure under Kali's leadership, I have funds and human test subjects, and not another Omnic Crisis could prevent me from continuing.

The end is so tantalizingly in reach now.

* * *

**Author's Note:** **So yeah! This was one helluva pet project for me to blaze through, and I think that considering how bare Overwatch's lore is at present, I think spinning a few paragraphs into thousands of words and multiple journal entries can be called a win. If the latter half of this fic seems a tad blown through, let me say this. My focus on these journals was either Kali, Moira developing into the badass she is today, or Moira's tech being explained in it's development cycle. Now that all of that'd been done, I figured that needlessly making Moira seem like she** _**cares** _ **about anything other than her research would be disingenuous. Who knows? Maybe Blizzard will flesh out Moira more one day and render this fic obsolete, but until then, I think this was the most justice I could do her without delving too deep into headcanon valley.**

**It's been fun! Stay awesome possums!**


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